


One Thing At A Time

by LostCol



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gap Filler, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, What-If, bashing recovery, early S2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-02-22 23:57:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23902447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostCol/pseuds/LostCol
Summary: Basically just a long description (minimal dialogue and plot) of how Brian could have/might have helped Justin get comfortable with being touched again after the bashing.
Relationships: Brian Kinney/Justin Taylor (Queer as Folk)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 51





	One Thing At A Time

**Author's Note:**

> Something that bothers me about the show is how the timeline makes it seem like basically Justin’s first night back at the loft after the bashing, he and Brian attempt full on penetrative sex. I hope there were some baby steps before then that we just didn’t see, but... (and to be clear, that does *not* mean I'm criticizing how Brian handled the situation)  
> I’ve also been thinking about how things might have gone differently afterward if Hobbs had raped Justin that night instead of bashing him, and this step in Justin’s recovery would arguably make more sense after that kind of attack. So depending on your perspective on all that, this either works as a cannon gap filler or a what-if.

Like they had a handful of times since Jennifer handed Justin off to Brian, they sat on Brian’s bed with Justin between Brian’s legs, leaning back again his chest, his legs hooked over Brian’s with his feet flat on the bed. They were both shirtless but wearing underwear, Brian in non-threatening striped boxer briefs (he’d made a conscious choice not to wear his sexy black ones, not sure if it actually did anything to help Justin feel more comfortable, but figuring it couldn’t hurt), and Justin in his usual tighty whities.

Brian gently cupped, squeezed, and rubbed Justin through his briefs, his other hand resting on the soft part of Justin’s stomach just below his belly button. Justin was visibly uncomfortable, squeezing Brian’s thighs and pushing back against Brian’s chest, his body tense. Brian kept up a steady stream of reassuring whispers in Justin’s ear, eventually asking him softly if he could take him out of his briefs, that’s all, he won’t touch him anywhere else. Justin nodded and squeezed his eyes shut, and when Brian reached into his briefs and gently lifted out his cock, he grunted and tensed up again, tears leaking out of his eyes, pushing as far back against Brian as he could and digging his nails into Brian’s thighs.

Brian held still, just cradling Justin’s soft, warm cock in his hand. Waited for Justin to release a long, drawn out breath and relax his body, prompting Brian to so, so gently rub his thumb up and down Justin’s cock a few times. Justin kept his eyes closed and breathed through it, working hard to keep his body relaxed.

He finally started to get hard when Brian kissed his neck softly, and as soon as he felt his cock start to fill, he squeezed Brian’s thighs and gasped out, “Okay, stop, stop. I need to stop.”

Brian immediately tucked him back into his briefs and rested both hands lightly on Justin’s stomach, silent and still, holding Justin while he calmed down. After a minute, Brian whispered, “That was really good. You did really well tonight,” and stroked Justin’s stomach lightly in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.

They’d been trying every other night for about a week at that point, with every attempt going more or less the same.

Justin never touched Brian during that time, despite hesitantly offering once during the first couple of days. Brian knew he was only offering because he felt like he should reciprocate. He needed to prove that Brian wasn’t just his therapist, or his nursemaid. Brian had smiled and turned him down, moving Justin’s hand away from his crotch, reassuring him that he wasn’t thinking about that (lying, obviously, but you do what you have to), and he didn’t want Justin thinking about it until he genuinely wanted it, no matter how long it took (not lying at all). Justin had cried, confused by the warring emotions of frustration and relief at Brian’s rejection, and Brian had held him, running his fingers through Justin’s hair until he’d fallen asleep.

A couple of weeks after their first clumsy attempts, they have a breakthrough.

The attempt doesn’t start out great. They try, not for the first time, laying down on their sides with Brian spooning Justin from behind. But there’s something about laying down that makes Justin feel so much more vulnerable than when he’s upright, and as with every other attempt in this position, Brian hasn’t even touched his cock before he’s wriggling away, crying, “Wait, stop!”

Brian wants to stop for the night, ever patient, not the slightest hint of annoyance or exasperation in his tone or on his face when he gently tries to convince Justin that it was a good attempt, and they can try again tomorrow. The last thing Brian wants is to push too far too fast and have Justin panic and regress. But Justin insists that he wants to try again, sitting up, in the position in which they’ve had so much more success. Relatively speaking. Justin’s voice is steady and firm, and he looks as calm as he has lately, so Brian cautiously relents.

Justin stays fairly relaxed throughout the early stages, and Brian’s able to free Justin’s already half hard cock from his briefs faster than usual. Brian’s ready and waiting for Justin to stop him, attuned to every move Justin makes, every breath, every flinch. Brian becomes increasingly hopeful the harder Justin’s cock becomes, until it’s fully hard and leaking, and Justin has yet to stop him. They haven’t gone this far since _before_.

“You okay?” Brian breaths against Justin’s neck, and Justin nods hard.

In a trembling, breathless voice, Justin confesses, “I don’t know… if I’ll come. I don’t know if I can.”

“That’s okay, we don’t have to go that far. Do you want to stop?”

“No! I’m so close, Brian,” and he lets out a sob as tears leak from the corners of his eyes and he shakes in Brian’s arms.

After several weeks of this, Brian knows that crying and shaking don’t mean “stop”, that Justin will say “stop” if he wants to stop. A lesson Brian learned the hard way when Justin freaked and screamed at him one night when a very anxious Justin had pleaded with him to keep going, and he’d stopped anyway. Then, still struggling with emotional regulation, Justin had burst into tears and apologized to Brian for pushing him to do something sexually that he didn’t want to. That night had been a disaster, ending in a panic attack and Justin sobbing in Brian’s arms before rolling away to cry and shake alone on his side of the bed, refusing to be touched.

Needless to say, Brian has learned that Justin will tell him to stop if he wants to stop.

So even though Justin’s crying silently, shaking in Brian’s arms, and running his hands up and down Brian’s thighs, Brian continues spreading his precum down his cock and working him gently but steadily toward orgasm. Brian’s rubbing soothing circles on Justin’s stomach with his other hand and whispering steadily in Justin’s ear, “Okay, that’s it, you’re doing so well, you’re so close,” and feathering light kisses along Justin’s neck and shoulder.

It takes forfuckingever, and Brian’s ready to stop either the moment Justin asks him to or his cock starts to soften in Brian’s hand, but he never does, and it never does, and finally, _finally_ , after shushing Justin’s pained “I’m sorry, Brian”s, after wondering how much a body can shake before it works itself into a panic, after arguing with himself for the fourth or fifth time that maybe he should stop anyway, Justin’s wrath be damned, Brian finally feels Justin’s body tense up as his balls draw up. His head rolls back against Brian’s shoulder, and his warm cum flows up and over Brian’s hand as he lets out an anxious whine and trembles violently, and squeezes the everloving shit out of Brian’s thighs.

By any normal measure, it’s a pretty underwhelming orgasm, but it’s the first one they’ve coaxed out of Justin’s traumatized body in over a month, and it’s like fucking fireworks for them.

Brian starts laughing while he tucks Justin’s now soft cock back into his briefs, relief, pride, and a strange giddiness crashing through him. He wraps his arms tightly around Justin’s waist and asks, “How do you feel?”

Justin’s still crying, but he’s smiling through his tears as relief crashes through him, too. He’s too overwhelmed to make his voice work, so he just brings his hands up to cover his flushed face, embarrassed by his vulnerability, but so, so happy.

Brian chuckles again, warm affection for the blushing boy in his arms coursing through him, and he sits there quietly, holding Justin while their breathing slows and their heart rates return to normal. After a few minutes, the physical and emotional toll of the evening catches up to them, and Brian feels Justin’s body relax more heavily into his arms as he starts to fall asleep. Another first. Justin hasn’t been able to fall asleep with Brian touching him – let alone holding him – since _before_.

Brian was surprised to discover how much he missed it.

Brian carefully extricates himself from behind Justin and gently lowers him onto the pillows, trying not to wake him though he’s only sleeping lightly. He’s halfway to the bathroom when he hears a quiet, sleepy, “Brian?”, and he turns to find Justin watching him with a worried expression and shining eyes. Brian sits back down on the edge of the bed and places a comforting hand on Justin’s arm.

“What’s wrong? Do you feel okay?”

Justin nods, “Are you coming back?”

“To bed?”

Another nod.

“I’m just getting something to clean us up. You can go to sleep, it’s okay.” 

Justin gives him a small smile, and when he’s sure he’s not going to speak again, Brian squeezes his arm and goes into the bathroom to take a piss, wash off his sticky hands, and dampen a washcloth.

Justin’s mostly asleep by the time Brian gets back to the bed, but he jerks awake with a gasp the moment the washcloth touches his skin, darting wide, scared eyes around for a few seconds before recognition registers and he relaxes. “Sorry, just me,” Brian says with a small smile, kicking himself for startling the kid. Justin’s startle response is so heightened, he keeps jumping out of his skin, despite Brian’s best efforts to always announce his presence.

After a pause, he finishes cleaning Justin off, throws the dirty washcloth into the hamper, and crawls into bed. He pulls the covers over them and is pulling Justin toward him when something occurs to him. “Hey, why didn’t you—“

He climbs back out of bed and grabs a clean pair of briefs from the dresser, tossing them to Justin. “You should have said something, you don’t have to sleep in sticky briefs.”

Justin wriggles around under the covers changing them out, and he gives Brian a shy, grateful smile when he hesitantly hands him the dirty ones to put in the hamper.

Justin won’t meet Brian’s eyes while he tries to explain, “I’m sorry, I know it’s stupid. I’m… I’m just so fucking scared of upsetting anyone, and when you didn’t say anything about it, I… was afraid you’d be annoyed if I brought it up.”

“Justin—“

“No, I know. I know you won’t hurt me, I know it’s ridiculous. I know people aren’t going to attack me because I mildly inconvenience them. I just…” Justin trails off with a shrug.

Brian slowly pulls Justin back into his arms, giving him plenty of time to pull away, but he doesn’t. Running his hand slowly up and down Justin’s back, Brian tries his best to reassure him gently, despite wanting to make his point much more forcefully. “You don’t need to explain. You don’t owe me, or anyone, that. And you don’t have to apologize. Something horrible happened to you, and that doesn’t just go away. You’re doing what you feel like you have to to protect yourself, it makes complete sense. No matter how much “you know” they won’t hurt you, your body doesn’t know that.”

“Thanks, Brian,” he sighs, giving Brian’s waist a squeeze.

Brian threads his fingers through Justin’s hair and scratches his scalp lightly. “I don’t want to push you, but I want you to be able to tell me things. Like that I accidentally left you in cum-soaked briefs.”

“I know, I’m trying.”

“I know—“

“I don’t want you to think I’m afraid of you. I know you have, you know, baggage about that. Fuck, some days you’re the only person I’m _not_ afraid of.”

Brian doesn’t really know what to say to that, uncomfortable as always with anything remotely resembling emotion or sentiment, so he settles for a soft, “Okay, good,” and runs his hand down Justin’s spine. A thrill runs through him when he feels Justin squeeze him again and rub his cheek against Brian’s chest while he settles in to sleep. Brian’s still expecting him to roll away, needing his space to be able to relax enough to drop off, but he never does.

Even Justin’s bloodcurdling scream wrenching Brian from a sound sleep two hours later isn’t enough to put a damper on the successes of the evening.

One thing at a time. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments? Did that right-to-full-sex thing in the show bother anyone else?


End file.
